Where Will You Go
by Kouri Arashi
Summary: Trying something new! This is a MurakixOriya fic. The basic premise (once I get around to it) is that after Kyoto, Oriya challenges Muraki to live a year without killing anyone. And, uhm... yeah. I don't know what I'm doing. ^^
1. Prologue

Where Will You Go 

_Author's Notes: And now for something completely different. This is a Muraki/Oriya fic. There are no other pairings. Odds are pretty good that the Shinigami won't show up at all. Why? Because I can't get this bloody idea out of my head. No pun intended. _

Warnings: Yaoi. NCS, murder, death, blood, betrayal, angst, blood, torture, NCS, and all those other lovely things that go along with Muraki. Also a bunch of OCs... since I'm presuming Oriya has at least a few people that work at the Ko Kaku Rou. Also, because of the lack of general information about Oriya, Muraki, and their collective past, I'm taking a lot of liberties and making a lot of stuff up. 

Disclaimer: This probably isn't what Matsushita-sama intended for Muraki and Oriya at all, but damn am I ever having fun with it. Also, no, Evanescence hasn't returned my brain yet. Why do you ask? 

Disclaimer #2: Yes, I know I should be working on Valley. Biiiiiida. =P 

"You're too important for anyone  
There's something wrong with everything you see  
But I -- I know who you really are  
You're the one who cries when you're alone...  
But where will you go  
With no one left to save you from yourself?"  
-- Evanescence, "Where Will You Go" 

Prologue 

    It was raining at the Ko Kaku Rou, and Mibu Oriya had finally lost his temper. 

    It wasn't the kind of explosion that most of his employees would have expected, having witnessed his famous 'Oriya Kick' administered to Muraki's head a great many times. Nor was it the kind Muraki himself would have expected. Of course, Muraki wasn't there to see it. Not precisely. 

    He was there, but he had yet to wake up. 

    It had been one week previous that he had showed up on the back doorstep. Oriya had finally fallen asleep to the noise of the wind chimes, but the loud thud that Muraki made as he hit the floor woke him instantly. He had dragged Muraki inside and given him a critical look. 

    Questions were asked, and answered. It took Oriya a full minute to realize that Muraki was bleeding to death. 

    One long week since then. Oriya had known better to take him to a hospital. That would raise too many questions. The wound in his stomach was deep, but so far, it hadn't gotten infected. Oriya had spent the entire week sitting by his side, keeping his fever down, pouring tea and medicine down his throat. 

    He could vividly remember Muraki's last words before leaving. 

    _"Once it's all over . . . I will disappear. It's all right . . . I won't cause you any further trouble."_

    Oriya's fist clenched down on his cigarette holder. It snapped in half. 

    "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he said to Muraki's unconscious form. Muraki had always been stupid. Since the moment they'd met. It was no big secret to him, but it seemed like no one else on the planet knew it. 

    Muraki was an idiot. An idiot to think that Oriya viewed him as trouble, an idiot to walk away from him, an idiot -- 

    "To go and get yourself run through by your purple-eyed pet," Oriya said, annoyed. Muraki didn't twitch, and somehow, that just enraged him further. After a week, he was sick at looking at Muraki's pale, unmoving face. Sick of taking care of him. Sick of a great many things. 

    "Oriya-san?" a timid voice asked, and he turned from where he was sitting to see Chisa, one of his younger employees. She was only seventeen. Oriya had found her hooking on the streets of Tokyo on one of his visits. He supposed that most people would have viewed it as immoral, that he had picked her up and taken her here. 

    But how was it immoral? He kept her feed and clothed properly. He put a roof over her head. He kept her from the rough or violent customers and made sure that she wouldn't catch any diseases. 

    Personally, Oriya didn't think there was anything wrong at all with having sex for money. 

    "Aa?" he asked, looking over at her, then at the cigarette holder in his hands. 

    She studied her hands. She was shy and nervous constantly; a result of the abusive family she had grown up with and the treatment she'd received on the streets. After a year, Oriya had finally drilled it into her head that he wouldn't mistreat her or turn her out for the least offense, but that didn't stop her from being nervous. "Himiko-san sent me up to tell you that dinner is ready." 

    Oriya nodded. "I'll be down soon. Thank you." Himiko was his housekeeper. She had been with the family since before he was born, at first working at the brothel, and then becoming cook and maid once she was too old for that work. Since Oriya's mother had died when he had been four, he looked more upon Himiko as his mother than anyone else. 

    He didn't particularly want dinner, but he certainly wasn't about to risk Himiko's wrath. She was just as tall as him and could handle herself in a fight. Since she'd raised him, she had no qualms about grabbing him by the ear and dragging him into the kitchen -- which was exactly what she'd done on Muraki's third night there, after Oriya had spent two days not eating. 

    Oriya smiled slightly. Ko Kaku Rou might have been immoral, but at least they were a family of sorts. 

    He walked down the hallway, leaving Muraki still unconscious, and stumbled upon two of the girls having a fierce argument. 

    "He isn't!" Suzumi hissed in a low voice. 

    "I'm telling you, he is!" Yoshie objected. "I saw the way that they looked at each other! I'm a whore, I know it when I see it!" 

    "Girls," Oriya said mildly. "You're not whores. You're geisha." 

    "Big difference," Yoshie muttered, but she knew better than to say it out loud. Oriya was very particular about the words the girls used to describe themselves. God only knew that their self-esteem was low enough as it was. 

    "What were you arguing about?" he asked. 

    Yoshie blushed fiercely, but Suzumi, apparently anxious to be proven right, jumped right in. "She says that Muraki-san is your lover and I said you're not like that but she's acting all high and mighty! Tell her that she's wrong!" 

    Oriya coughed into his hand. Suzumi was eighteen to Yoshie's twenty-four, and Yoshie had a tendency to be arrogant and bitchy and pretend she knew everything about what happened at the Ko Kaku Rou. He had written most of it off as just that -- arrogance. It somewhat disturbed him to see that Yoshie was really that perceptive. 

    "Oh my God," Suzumi said. 

    Oriya rolled his eyes. 

    "Told you," Yoshie said haughtily. 

    "For your information," Oriya said, deciding it would probably be best to set the record straight before this got out of hand, "Muraki and I were lovers in high school. We're not anymore. So take heart; you're both right." That was a bit of a stretch of the truth, but nominally -- well, they had been lovers in high school, and Muraki was upstairs dying, so they couldn't really be called lovers now, could they? He just wouldn't mention the fact that they had also been lovers in all the years in between. 

    Besides, he didn't want Suzumi and Yoshie telling everyone. Not that the girls would care, but if the customers found out, that could affect business. 

    "You understand why you shouldn't tell anyone this?" he asked mildly. 

    Suzumi and Yoshie both lowered their eyes to the floor and nodded obediently. "Hai," they said in unison, and trudged off. 

    Oriya sighed and went to get himself some dinner. Himiko was waiting for him in the kitchen. "How's Muraki?" she asked, in the same matter-of-fact tone that she always used, whether it was discussing what would be for dinner or the girl who had gotten beaten half to death by a customer. She had known Muraki nearly as long as Oriya had, and although she would never betray it, his condition distressed her as much as it did Oriya. Of course, Himiko didn't know quite as much about the private portion of Muraki's life. 

    Oriya shrugged. "Same as usual," he said. 

    Himiko waited until he had sat down at the rough wood table that they all ate at. The girls ate an hour before the dinner hour began; Oriya only a half hour. It was important, Himiko maintained, to not have a full stomach when serving customers. Oriya wasn't sure if that was because of nerves or something to do with shapeliness. Himiko put a bowl of beef stew down in front of him and he ate it methodically. 

    "You need a vacation," Himiko said, giving him the same measuring look she gave each new geisha. 

    "I need a lot more than that," Oriya said dryly. 

    Himiko snorted. The bell rang, signalling the first customer of the night, and Oriya hurried to attend them. The Ko Kaku Rou was a business that had been in their family for several generations. When Oriya had been young, there had never been any question as to what he was going to do with his life. He was going to run the business after his father departed from this life. And so he did. He never regretted the lost opportunities, not precisely, but sometimes he did wonder. 

    It was Saturday, so the restaurant was fairly busy. Over the years, Oriya had gotten very good at delegating his girls to certain clients. Polite, young men got Chisa or Asawe, who was similar in temperment. The louder men, who were often drunk when they came in, were served by Yoshie or Mitsu. They had been there the longest and were the most experienced. 

    After a while, he grew used to the customers and had a mental catalogue. There were a few violent ones that he generally couldn't turn away because they paid too well. He usually gave them Itsuko. She had grown up on the streets and could definitely take care of herself. 

    After the customers were seated with the geisha of their choice, he sat down and leaned against the wall on the back porch. The rain was coming down hard, and it fit his mood perfectly. As he watched, lightning flickered briefly and he heard the rumble of thunder. 

    With a sigh, Oriya stood and went inside, getting a mug of tea and the medicine he had been giving Muraki. His assistant manager and bouncer, Kentarou, was standing by the front desk. "You okay for the night?" he asked. Kentarou had been working a lot of overtime since Muraki had shown up, and Oriya made a mental note to give him some time off soon. 

    "I'm all set," Kentarou drawled, taking a drag on his cigarette. 

    "Call me if you need anything," Oriya said, and went upstairs. Muraki hadn't moved an inch since he had left the room four hours earlier. Oriya let out a heavy sigh and checked his wound. It seemed to still be healing all right. He propped Muraki's head up on some pillows, mixed the medicine into the tea, and poured it all down the doctor's throat. 

    "Damn you," he said softly, taking the pillows away so Muraki was lying down again. "Damn you, damn you, damn you." 

    It came all at once; the storm that had been building ever since Muraki had first arrived. 

    He did not cry, or yell, or break anything. He simply looked Muraki once up and down, then stood up. "I won't wait for you, you selfish bastard," he said, his voice rough. "You either wake up or don't. You've never really given a damn about me, have you. Fine. Waste away in your stupid coma. Just don't expect me to cry for you." 

    Oriya turned and walked out of the room. Kentarou looked surprised to see him walk by, given that he'd only gone upstairs fifteen minutes previous. "Everything okay?" he asked, suddenly possessed by the wordless fear that Muraki had died. Everyone in Ko Kaku Rou knew that Oriya would not be happy if that happened. 

    "Everything's fine." 

    Oriya opened a window. The rain had stopped. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, enjoying the clean smell that a storm left. 

    "For the first time in forever, everything's just fine." 

    Naturally, Muraki woke up the next day. 

~~~~ 

_Um.... yeah. Feedback me?_


	2. Chapter One

_Author's Notes: I apologize for Reiku. He showed up and demanded attention. For those who don't know, when he calls Oriya "Ori-nii", "nii" is short for niisan. Basically, using it (even though he's not Oriya's younger brother) is sort of a way of showing both affection and respect. _

More Japanese notes: "Reikan" ability is basically the same type of psychic ability as Hisoka has. I think. I apologize to anyone who knows more about what I'm talking about than I do, which is probably a lot of you, so I'll shut up now. 

Chapter One 

    Saturday nights were the busiest at the Ko Kaku Rou, and Oriya had his hands full keeping the customers happy. He had avoided Muraki's room the entire day, and didn't particularly feel like going up to give him his evening's medicine. Between helping Himiko in the kitchen and running the front desk, he didn't really care that much about Muraki. 

    Around eight thirty, he finally realized that he shouldn't put it off any longer. He dumped the herbs in the tea and snagged Chisa by the sleeve of her kimono. "Ne, Chisa, are you with a customer?" 

    She shook her head and looked tired. "Akisada-san just left." 

    "All right. Can you take this up to Muraki? Just tilt his head back and pour it into his mouth. He'll swallow it." 

    Chisa looked nervous, and understandably so. The few times that Muraki had been there, Oriya had caught him giving her some speculative glances. It didn't surprise him; Chisa was small and frail and pretty. Just Muraki's type. Oriya had not-so-subtly made it known that if Muraki ever laid a hand on one of his employees, he would regret it. 

    "Don't worry," Oriya said. "It'll only take you a minute, and I don't have time." 

    As nervous as she was, Chisa was accustomed to taking orders. She nodded, accepted the tea, and hurried up the stairs. The room was dark, and she flicked the lights on with hands that trembled. She knew -- everyone knew -- that Muraki had never hurt any of the geisha and probably never would, but she couldn't help being afraid. She told herself firmly that an unconscious man certainly couldn't hurt her. 

    But when she knelt next to Muraki, his eyes were open. 

    Involuntarily, Chisa uttered a tiny scream and flinched away. Muraki grabbed her by the wrist before she could run. "Don't go," he said. His normally smooth voice was hoarse from the week of disuse. "I'm thirsty." 

    "Oh," Chisa managed. "Oriya-san sent me with some tea for you. It has medicine in it." 

    Muraki nodded and reached for the cup. Chisa set it down and helped prop him up with a few pillows. She had to hold the cup to his lips while he drank. He felt very weak, and it annoyed him, almost angered him. 

    "What's the date?" he asked. 

    "It's October twenty-second," Chisa answered. "About eight thirty in the evening. Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?" 

    "I'd like to see Oriya," Muraki said. His voice was soft and flat. There was a total lack of inflection. 

    Chisa nodded, bobbing her head. "Of course. Right away, Muraki-san." She hurried out of the room and back down to the kitchen. Oriya was stirring a pot of soup for Himiko while she barked orders at the three-member kitchen staff. "Oriya-san? Muraki-san would like to speak to you." 

    Oriya dropped the spoon. It landed in the pot with a clank and slid underneath the top of the soup. He didn't notice. 

    "Oriya-san?" Chisa asked worriedly. 

    "I'm sorry," Oriya said vaguely. "I think I misheard you. What did you say?" 

    "I said that Muraki-san would like to speak to you." Chisa did not elaborate. She was not used to offering any information other than what she had been asked. 

    Himiko looked over at this. "He's awake?" 

    Chisa nodded. "He was awake when I went in the room." Light dawned as she recalled what Oriya had said about the medicine and she blinked at Oriya. "You . . . didn't know?" 

    Oriya shook his head. He took a new spoon out of a drawer and went back to stirring the soup. Kentarou called his name from the front desk and he dropped the spoon again. 

    "You keep adding metal to that and no one's going to want it," Himiko observed. "Go see to your customers and then to your friend." 

    Oriya nodded absently and went out to the main room. Chisa followed on his heels, frowning slightly. "You aren't going to go see him?" she asked hesitantly. 

    "I'm busy," Oriya said shortly. "Go tell him I'll be up after business hours." 

    Chisa's eyes widened slightly. She nodded and scampered back up the stairs. When Oriya was in a bad enough mood to speak curtly even to her, it was best to stay out of his way. Muraki was still propped up on his pillows when she got there. "I'm sorry, Muraki-san," she squeaked. "Oriya-san is very busy. He said he'll be up after business hours." 

    Muraki gave her such a hostile glare that Chisa backed away a step. "I want to see him now," he said in a very, very soft voice. 

    "Yes, sir," Chisa whispered, and darted from the room. 

    Oriya was still at the front desk, greeting a new guest as Chisa came downstairs. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he said mildly, before turning to the young man. "Hirosuke-san, it's good to see you again. Will you be dining this evening?" That was a question his father had taught him when he had first started running the business. It was a very subtle way of asking what kind of service the man required. Some people came for dinner, some just for the geisha. 

    Chisa tugged on Oriya's sleeve. "Muraki-san wants to see you right away and he was looking really scary," she whispered. 

    "I'll certainly be dining," Hirosuke said at the same time. "The food here is too excellent to pass up." 

    "Of course," Oriya said with a smile. "Chisa, why don't you show Hirosuke-san to a table and see that he's served properly?" 

    "Hai!" Chisa immediately scurried around him and bowed deeply. "This way, sir." 

    Hirosuke followed Chisa out of the room. Oriya picked up a pile of menus and slammed it down onto the desk. His hands were shaking. He was caught between unbelievable relief and unbearable anger. How dare Muraki demand to see him and frighten one of his girls? 

    Just for that, the prick was going to have to wait all night. Oriya clenched his fists and went back into the kitchen. 

    Himiko looked up from her soup. "Get out of my kitchen," she said. "You're not going to be of any use as angry as you are. And don't go near the customers. Kentarou and I will handle it." 

    "It's too busy for just you and Kentarou," Oriya said between clenched teeth. 

    "Yes, and we don't need you making trouble. We also don't need Muraki deciding to come downstairs and look for you, and scaring away all the customers. Bring him some soup. Throw it in his face for all I care, but keep him in his room. We're busy." 

    Oriya accepted the bowl from her and sighed. "It would have to happen just after I had given up, wouldn't it." 

    Himiko snorted, but did not reply. 

    Oriya sighed again and started up the stairs. He stopped outside Muraki's door and took a few deep breaths. Then he pushed the door open and went inside. Muraki had lain down again, but he sat up when Oriya came in. For a long minute, they regarded each other seriously. 

    "You conceited asshole," Oriya finally snarled. "What the hell were you thinking, scaring Chisa like that? You know how skittish she is. How dare you just demand to see me like I don't have anything better to do with my evening?" 

    Muraki smiled. "It's good to see you, too." 

    "Don't make me hurt you," Oriya said. He knelt next to Muraki and held the bowl of soup out to him. "Eat this. You need your strength. You've been unconscious for over a week now." He paused, then added, "You gigantic prick," for good measure. 

    Muraki took the soup and began to eat it slowly. "A week?" he asked. 

    "Yes, a week," Oriya snapped. "You waltzed off into the sunset to molest your boyfriend and kill your already dead brother, then the next thing I know you're standing here with a stab wound three inches deep in your stomach and you collapse on my floor. That was over a week ago. So maybe you can understand why I'm a little cranky." 

    There was a pause. Muraki nodded slightly. Then: "My lab?" 

    "It burned to the ground," Oriya said quietly. "Along with everything in it." 

    "I see." Muraki looked into the soup bowl. 

    Oriya folded his legs under himself and made himself comfortable for a long conversation. He knew how important the lab, and Saki, had been to Muraki. There were no words he could use as comfort. "I'm sorry," he finally offered. 

    Muraki accepted this with a nod, and continued to eat his soup. "I'm sorry I frightened Chisa," he finally said. 

    Oriya sighed. "I can never stay mad at you. You know that." He paused, then added, "Besides, I was worried about you. You should know that, too." 

    "I do know that." 

    Oriya leaned against the wall. "Any idea what happened to your boyfriend and the kiddo?" 

    "They got out. I didn't see it, but I'm still tied to the boy through the curse. He's still alive. That means that Tsuzuki-san must be also." Muraki delivered this statement as though there were perfectly reasonable logic behind it. Oriya accepted this; having seen Hisoka's determination to rescue Tsuzuki, he thought he understood. 

    Muraki finished the soup as they sat in silence. "Are you still hungry?" Oriya asked, when he was finished. 

    "No," Muraki replied. "I'm tired, though." 

    "You've been very ill," Oriya said, taking the bowl and spoon. "You had a high fever for the first few days. I wasn't sure you were going to make it." He stared at his hands as he spoke. "I had a feeling that if I brought you to a hospital, there would be a few too many unanswered questions." 

    Muraki laughed. "You always know what to do, Ori-chan." 

    "You know I hate it when you call me that," Oriya grumbled. It was a habit that Muraki had picked up in high school from one of the older geisha, who had grown up with Oriya. "Don't be a jerk. I should have left your carcass to rot in my backyard." 

    "You're a sucker like that," Muraki agreed. 

    "I am," Oriya said with a sigh. 

    Muraki leaned over and kissed him. He ran his fingers through Oriya's hair, loosening and pulling out the band that was holding it back. Oriya put one hand on his chest and pushed him away. 

    "I'm working," he said coolly. "And you're wounded. Besides, I'm still mad at you." 

    Muraki laughed. "All right. When I've successfully atoned, let me know." 

    Oriya rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to. For now, I'm going to go rescue Kentarou and Himiko." 

~~~~ 

    Once Oriya was out of the room, Muraki closed his eyes and turned inward. 

    He had never told Oriya the extent of his magic. It wasn't necessary. Oriya had said it himself once. "I don't know how powerful you are and I don't care. The last thing I want is to be afraid of you." Muraki agreed whole-heartedly. Given that Oriya was the one person he knew who wasn't afraid of him, at least to some extent, he thought that his friend was right. 

    In the end, it hadn't really mattered. Oriya had known about the lab, known about Saki, known about the genetic experiments. He had disapproved, but not openly; Muraki knew he didn't like it and that was enough. 

    The only thing that Oriya didn't know about, as far as Muraki was aware of, was how Tsuzuki was involved. Muraki simply had never found a way to say 'Well, he's got a perfect body that can heal, so I'm gonna whack his head off and put Saki's on instead.' 

    Somehow, he didn't think that would go over very well. Even if the look on Oriya's face would have been priceless. All right, maybe that explanation was just a bit crude -- he would have been perfectly happy with dissecting Tsuzuki and figuring out what it was that made him heal, so he could apply it to Saki. The other way had just seemed quicker. 

    Muraki sighed and ran his fingers over the bandages. Oriya was skilled enough in first aid; otherwise, he wouldn't still be alive. But the wound would be a hindrance in the weeks to come, and he wanted it gone. 

    He was weak -- very weak, so weak that it took conscious effort to move. Even eating the soup had taken a tremendous amount of energy. Healing himself was not a good idea. It would require too much of the little reserves he had left. However, it would also make those reserves replenish themselves faster, if he wasn't dealing with it. 

    A lose-lose situation, really. 

    Given that, he decided to go with the first and heal it now. If nothing else, the wound hurt too much to be ignored. 

    It was hardly the first time he had done this. As a doctor, he could tend wounds with the best of them, but he never had the patience when it was himself that had wounded. The skill had taken him longer to develop than any other magical ability, because it required so much knowledge. In order to repair a wound, one had to know how, whether it was being done through magic or stitches. 

    He supposed that it was lucky he had gone through medical school. 

    Bit by bit, the knife wound in his stomach closed, healed, disappeared. The healing was accompanied by a tingling he was long used to. He was perhaps better at this than at any other magic. He was so good at it that he could remain near death for days, and as long as a spark of consciousness remained alive inside him, he could return. It had come in handy a number of times, particularly on the Queen Camillia. He had been so far gone then that even the autopsy hadn't showed any signs of life. 

    It was lucky Tsubaki (he did not think of her as Eileen, and never had) hadn't gone ahead and removed his heart. That would have made things a bit tricky. 

    Finally, the wound was gone. The tingling vanished and was replaced with bone-deep exhaustion. His eyes remained closed. 

    He was finally faced with the inevitable 'now what?' 

    The lab was gone, and Saki with it. It was a hard truth to face, and one that Muraki was unsure of how to go about facing. For so many years, he had lived to get his revenge. Now that would be impossible. If Touda's fire burned hot enough to destroy a Shinigami, it certainly burned hot enough to get rid of any scraps of DNA that might have been left. 

    Even if it hadn't -- even if by some miracle he managed to find so much of a hair -- the fact remained that even after years of study, Muraki still couldn't create bodies from scratch. That was why he had needed Tsuzuki. 

    Tsuzuki, who was undoubtedly back in the Meifu being coddled by the other Shinigami by now. 

    It made Muraki want to grind his teeth, but he lacked the energy. Oh, he had wanted Tsuzuki, but that wasn't what bothered him. But of all the stupid, stupid ways to be defeated -- to be knifed in the stomach by that half-brained and yet somehow still beautiful, so utterly desirable -- 

    Muraki sighed and shook the thoughts off. He somewhat doubted that he was ever going to get his hands on Tsuzuki again. If he tried, he would almost certainly be decapitated by Tatsumi. Besides, with Saki gone, there was no real point in pursuing Tsuzuki except for the point of amusement. 

    And he really didn't feel like seeking amusement at the moment. 

    It had been stupid, though. After all the work he had done tearing down Tsuzuki's psyche enough that he would be vulnerable, it had somehow slipped his mind that tearing it down too far would be more dangerous than leaving it intact. It had not occurred to him that Tsuzuki might sacrifice himself to bring Muraki down -- or that he might want to die so badly he didn't care if Muraki was in the way. 

    A murder-suicide. How elegant. How romantic. 

    How idiotic. 

    He wanted to unwrap the bandages, check to make sure the wound was gone, but he didn't have the energy. And why bother? He knew that he had healed it properly. Having to check would mean that he was second-guessing himself, and he wasn't. He just would have liked to feel the intact skin, that was all. 

    The door opened. Muraki glanced over to see Oriya come in again, and was startled. Had that many hours passed? Healing always took time, but never hours, not even the worst of injuries. For it to have taken that long meant that his reserves were more weakened than he thought. 

    "You should be sleeping," Oriya said. He took off the outer robe he wore over his kimono and hung it on a peg near the door. Muraki looked around and realized, for the first time, that he was not in his usual guest room. He was on a futon in Oriya's room. It brought a smile to his face. 

    "But then," Oriya continued, "you never did know what was good for you." 

    "Maybe I was sleeping until you came in," Muraki replied, and was pleased to note that his voice had returned, more or less, to its normal tenor. "Your clomping woke me up." 

    "I never clomp," Oriya replied. He walked over to his desk and picked up a hairbrush, then turned to face Muraki as he ran it through his hair. He knew how much Muraki loved his hair, and Muraki couldn't help but wonder if he was doing it purposely to taunt him. He wouldn't put it past him. Traditionally, Oriya got a real kick out of taunting him. "And you were awake when I got here. Don't think you can fool me. I know you better than you know yourself." 

    Muraki had to wonder if it was true. Certainly, on many occasions, Oriya had shown remarkable insights to his character. However, Muraki considered that he knew himself fairly well. He almost always knew the reasons for what he did. He was very big on introspection. 

    Of course, it could not be said that he understood Oriya. In fact, he didn't understand a damn thing about Oriya. The man was a total mystery to him. 

    "All right," he said agreeably. "I was already awake. But you can't blame that on me. I slept for the past week. I was allowed to stay up a little while. Besides, I was busy." 

    "Busy?" Oriya asked skeptically, unable to fathom what Muraki might have been doing to qualify for that statement. 

    "Healing. Can you take the bandages off? They itch." 

    Oriya gaped at him, and Muraki wished abstractly for a camera to take a picture of his expression. Oriya definitely made some of the most interesting faces he'd ever seen. "You arrogant prick," Oriya finally said, but the words were without heat, without anger. He knelt next to Muraki and helped him sit up, then started to unwind the bandages. "If I'd known you were going to do that, I would've slapped you harder, trying to get you to wake up." 

    Muraki shrugged slightly. "I wouldn't have had the energy until the fever was gone anyway." Now that the bandages were gone, he felt much better. He ran the tips of his fingers over his newly formed skin. It was still sensitive, but it didn't hurt. Good. At least something was going right. 

    Oriya sighed and finished brushing his hair. "You drive me insane," he finally said, his voice flat, lacking in emotion. 

    "I'm sorry," Muraki said, and the contrition in his voice would have sounded real to everyone except Oriya. 

    "Yeah, right." Oriya started to undo the obi that held his kimono on, then gave Muraki a pointed look. 

    Muraki looked pointedly right back. "You're not going to tell me that you're suddenly modest, are you?" he asked, amused. "I've seen you naked more times than I can count, and now you're suddenly ashamed to change in front of me?" 

    "I thought you might show some consideration for once," Oriya said, undoing the obi and shrugging off the kimono. "The more fool, I." 

    Muraki watched him undress. After that remark, he certainly wasn't going to look away. 

    "Enjoy the show?" Oriya asked dryly, getting into bed. He slept naked. Muraki wondered how he could have forgotten that. They had not seen each other in quite some time before this latest misadventure. 

    "Quite," Muraki replied. He felt weariness starting to overwhelm him. He let it. Everything else could be dealt with tomorrow. There was no plan, so there was no time limit. He closed his eyes. 

    For a long minute, there was nothing but the gentle sound of the wind chimes. 

    "Ne, Muraki . . ." Oriya hesitated, unsure of whether or not Muraki was still awake. 

    "Aa?" 

    "I'm glad you're all right." 

    There was a long pause. Then: "Aa." 

    Oriya had not expected anything more. In truth, he had expected arrogance, some reply like 'I am too.' He supposed he ought to be grateful for the little he received. 

    He rolled over and went to sleep. 

~~~~ 

    Muraki slept all night and most of the next day. Even when he wasn't sleeping, he continued to lie in bed, conserving his energy. It would take time to return to his normal state of being. But there was no rush. Nowhere to go, nothing to do. 

    No reason to leave. 

    In the past, whenever he had stayed at Ko Kaku Rou, he had always been stopping by between jobs, on his way to somewhere else, on a brief vacation. It was always one thing or another. He found himself rather comforted by the fact that he could stay as long as he wanted. But the long hours in bed were starting to get to him. It left him with nothing to do but think. 

    No matter how hard he tried, he did not know what to do. 

    Oh, he could go back to being a doctor. He had a job, a research lab, a nice fat paycheck. He could go back to his DNA research, cloning research, stem cells, organ transplantation, any one of a dozen projects. But with no goal, no reason to apply them, he found himself drastically less enthusiastic. 

    It would keep him occupied, but that was all. 

    He awoke the next morning when the sun hit his eyes. Oriya was still asleep, sprawled out on his stomach as he always slept. One of his arms was hanging off the futon to the side; the other was stretched over his head. His face was turned towards Muraki, blank and peaceful in sleep. Muraki smiled slightly. Oriya had no idea how innocent he looked when he was asleep, and he probably would have snarled if Muraki had told him. 

    After a few moments, Muraki carefully sat up, then pushed himself to his feet. He had walked a little the day before, with Oriya's help, to use the bathroom. There was no point in being embarrassed about it; he assumed that Oriya had been taking care of him while he had been unconscious. Now, however, he was not about to wake Oriya just for this. 

    He hobbled to the upstairs bathroom, but the door was shut. He knocked once. "Be out in a sec," a voice called. A masculine voice. Muraki frowned. He had thought that Oriya was the only man who lived in the house. 

    A few seconds later, the door opened and an attractive young teenager sauntered out, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He gave Muraki a blatant onceover, pushing his spiky hair out of his face, and fixed dark blue eyes on Muraki. "Yo," he said. 

    Muraki raised an eyebrow at him. "And you are?" he asked. 

    "I could be asking the same of you," the teenager retorted. "I live here. You don't." 

    "This is a geisha house," Muraki replied evenly. He couldn't even recall how many times Oriya had smacked him over the head and reminded him that they sold women. "Geisha are women. Women, not men, and certainly not boys." 

    "Ooh, I'm insulted," he said, putting a hand over his chest. Then he extended the hand. "Sanaka Reiku. I'm a new addition. Apparently, Ori-nii has been getting a lot of requests for my type. My type being the type with outdoor plumbing." 

    Muraki shook his hand, now giving him a quick look. He estimated that Reiku was in his late teens, perhaps eighteen or nineteen. Just on the edge of being a man. The lack of clothing showed that he was in shape, not overly thin, and not really fragile. His hair was disheveled, but it was early in the morning. And his dark blue eyes were almost captivating. He would be a challenge, but Muraki quickly assessed that if he wanted him, he could have him. He suspected that this was why Oriya had never let him know that the boy had started working there. Obviously, Oriya didn't trust him. "Muraki Kazutaka." 

    "Ori-nii's lover." Reiku nodded. "I know." 

    Muraki wanted to bristle at the casual affection for Oriya that Reiku was applying, but didn't. It was highly probably that Oriya had found Reiku on a street corner. Loyalty and gratitude ran deep at Ko Kaku Rou. "How did you know we were lovers?" he asked mildly. 

    Reiku grinned, a lazy, arrogant grin. "You just told me." 

    Muraki gave him a withering look. 

    "It's a rumor the girls were spreading," Reiku said with a shrug. "But who listens to them? Asawe and Chisa are both terrified of you, and Itsuko wants your guts for garters. Not too popular here, are you." 

    Muraki shrugged. "They put up with me for Oriya's sake. I don't know why they don't like me." 

    "Hm . . ." Reiku considered it for a few seconds. "I do. You're pretty much the worst nightmare of everyone here. Oh, none of them know it consciously, except maybe Chisa. She's bright for someone so nervous. And Itsuko is a good judge of character. But come on, you get people like us who've been whoring on the streets? We all know a rapist when we see one. You're lucky Ori-nii loves you so much, or you would've been out of here and on your ass a long time ago." 

    Muraki had to admit that he was impressed. He was also deeply suspicious. "You didn't get all that just from looking at me," he said. "Or from listening to rumors." 

    Reiku grinned again. This time it was a bit more manic. "Prove it." 

    There was a pause while Muraki replayed the scene in his head, and realized what had happened. "You read me," he said. "When you shook my hand. You have Reikan ability, don't you." 

    Reiku laughed. "Wow, I'm impressed. Okay, yes, very good. Ten points for the albino. So my question, 'Taka-nii -- can I call you 'Taka-nii?" Muraki simply shrugged. Arguing would only give Reiku more fuel. "My question is if you think you could actually rape me." 

    Muraki gave him a measuring look. "Yes. Oriya might disembowel me afterwards, but if I was so inclined, I could rape you." He changed the subject. "Why are you up so early?" 

    "Up so late," Reiku corrected. "I'm just showering before bed. I'm nocturnal. But alas, my futon is calling me. However, you're wrong." 

    "About which part?" Muraki asked, slightly amused. 

    "About being able to rape me." 

    "You think I couldn't?" Muraki asked, leaning closer. Normally, it would be menacing, but Reiku just grinned. "And why not, pray tell?" 

    "Can't rape the willing." Reiku winked at him, slid away from his grasp, and down the hallway. His door shut behind him with a thud. 

    Muraki shook his head and went back to his room. He pushed his futon over so it lined up with Oriya's and lay down again. It would startle Oriya to wake up with the two of them so close together, and Muraki considered that it would be quite amusing. Much to his surprise, Oriya rolled onto his side, curling his body around his taller friend. 

    Muraki smiled a little, and fell asleep. 

~~~~ 


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two 

    Oriya woke up an hour later when the sun had risen enough to reach his bed. He didn't believe in alarm clocks. He was startled to see Muraki asleep next to him. When he stirred, Muraki's eyes opened. "Morning," he said. 

    Oriya yawned and stretched. "What are you doing here?" he asked bluntly. 

    "I was sleeping," Muraki replied. "You were the one who grabbed hold of me like I was an oversized teddy bear." 

    Oriya did his best to supress a blush. "That's what happens when you run off and fucking abandon me," he said, sitting up. He climbed out of bed, apparently unashamed of his nudity. He picked up his bathrobe and pulled it on. "I'm going to go shower," he announced abruptly. 

    "May I join you?" Muraki asked. 

    Oriya gave him a withering look. "Breakfast will be in an hour," he said, and stalked out of the room. 

    Muraki smiled and got out of bed. Oriya had neatly folded his clothes, but that didn't help the blood on his shirt or the large tear in it. Muraki sighed. He had no other clothes with him, so he rifled through Oriya's wardrobe until he found a grey yukata with a black obi. He slid it on and was pleased to note that it fit, although it was a little tight around the shoulders and a few inches too short. 

    It would do for the time being. He ran Oriya's brush through his hair and slid his glasses on. Now he was ready to face the day. 

    Oriya came back in, his hair dripping wet, wearing nothing but a towel. Muraki raised an eyebrow at him. Oriya just smirked at him and pointed to the door. "Out." 

    "Unfair," Muraki said, and didn't budge. 

    "Mm hmm." Oriya walked right up to him, leaned in, and planted the lightest of kisses on Muraki's lips. Then he dropped the towel. "You ever want to have sex with me again, you'll get out of my room right now." 

    Muraki put his hands on Oriya's waist and kissed his forehead. "Whatever you want," he said, and backed away. 

    "By the way, nice yukata," Oriya remarked. "You could have asked." 

    "I could have." Muraki left the room. He went down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he could smell breakfast cooking. Although Oriya had brought him food the day before, he was ravenously hungry, presumably because of all the energy he'd expended to heal. "Good morning, Himiko-san," he said respectfully. 

    She glanced up and gave him a momentarily sharp look, then nodded. "Good morning, Muraki," she said. "I see you're finally up and about. That's good news." 

    He smiled at her. "Thank you." 

    Oriya appeared behind him. He had dressed and tied his hair back, after toweling it so it was only damp, rather than dripping. "Morning, Himiko," he said. "Is he begging for scraps again?" 

    Himiko snorted. "Breakfast won't be ready for another forty minutes. Go entertain yourselves elsewhere." 

    Oriya nodded and walked out of the room, obviously expecting Muraki to follow. After smiling at Himiko, he did so. "I met the newest addition to your staff this morning," he said mildly, as they settled on the back porch. 

    Oriya glanced over. "Suzumi's been here two years, Muraki." 

    "Not Suzumi." Muraki smiled. "Reiku. I'm a bit amused that you never told me you had a boy working here." 

    There was a pause. Then Oriya sighed. "Try to guess why." 

    "Be fair. He already offered to sleep with me." 

    Oriya nearly choked. Then he just sighed. "Sounds like something Reiku would do. He's had the place in an uproar ever since he started working here six months ago. I'm lucky he's exclusively interested in men, or he'd probably be trying to crawl into bed with all the geisha and Itsuko would have removed his dick by now." 

    Muraki smiled. "I liked him." 

    "Touch him, and I'll remove your dick." 

    "He said he was willing. You said I could never rape your geisha. You never said I couldn't sleep with them." 

    "Yeah, well, it's a new rule," Oriya snapped. 

    "Besides, if you remove my dick, you'll be sorry in the long run," Muraki said. 

    Oriya gave him a withering glare. 

    "Touchy, touchy," Muraki replied. "Did you know he's got Reikan ability? Makes me wonder how he puts up with being a whore." 

    Oriya didn't bother to correct Muraki for the term, knowing that his friend would only laugh. He also didn't inform Muraki of how Reiku dealt with it. It wasn't any of his business, and Oriya wasn't in the mood to explain. 

    "Fine," Muraki said, when it became clear that Oriya wasn't going to answer. "We can talk about something else." 

    "Thank you," Oriya replied. 

~~~~ 

    Bordering somewhere between furious and worried, Oriya found Reiku in the exercise room after dinner. It was a requisite for all the geisha, Reiku included, to maintain good physical shape. Oriya was teaching three of them -- Reiku, Yoshie, and Itsuko -- how to use a katana. 

    "All right, what the hell did you think you were doing?" he asked, annoyed. 

    Reiku didn't pause in his pushups. "Who did I do now?" he replied. It was one of his favorite questions. 

    Oriya ground his teeth. He liked Reiku, but he didn't like the fact that he worked there. Having another male in the mix threw off the delicate balance that kept Ko Kaku Rou running smoothly. All the girls thought of men as authority figures. They did not view Reiku as one of them. He had to share a room with Itsuko because she was the only one who agreed. 

    Unfortunately, Oriya had gotten so many discreet requests for someone of the male gender that he had no longer been able to ignore them. He was losing business by not having any male employees. Hiring Reiku had improved business over twenty percent. In fact, he suspected that Reiku might be getting a male roommate soon enough. 

    "No one yet," Oriya said, stressing the last word. 

    "You're annoyed about your boyfriend?" Reiku asked. He finished doing pushups and lay flat on his back on the floor. "It's not my fault. I figured that if half the fun is the fact that I'm not willing, he's a lot less likely to have sex with me if I said I was willing." 

    "Don't think you're so damned clever, Reiku," Oriya snapped. "You don't know Muraki. I don't care if you read him or not. You can't anticipate him and you can't control him. Got that?" 

    "Was I wrong?" Reiku asked seriously. 

    "You were and you weren't," Oriya said. "Yeah, half the fun is forcing you, so it won't be as much fun if you're willing, but that doesn't mean it won't be fun. And what you didn't think of is that now, because of what you said, fucking you isn't against my rules, and he'll do it just to piss me off, because he likes getting under my skin. So you've made it less fun and more fun at the same time. How clever do you feel now?" 

    Reiku shrugged. "Still pretty clever." 

    "Why?" 

    "Because look at me, Ori-nii. If he wants to have sex with me, he will. I can't stop him. And . . ." He looked up at Oriya, and for a few seconds, his dark blue eyes were haunted. "And it hurts less if you don't fight it." 

    Oriya said nothing. 

    "That's why you sleep with him, isn't it?" 

    "No!" Oriya felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. No, Reiku wasn't right. He was perceptive, that was true, but he couldn't be right about everything. Oriya knew he didn't sleep with Muraki because he was afraid the man would force him. "In case your damaged psyche can't comprehend this simple fact, I'll spell it out for you. I sleep with Muraki because I love him. Got that?" 

    "Mm hmm," Reiku said. 

    Oriya turned to walk out, then hesitated. "I'm not joking with you, Reiku. Don't think that you can control him. No one can. He doesn't just want to rape you. He wants to kill you. Don't forget that." 

    "You control him," Reiku replied. 

    "Not if you undermine my fucking authority by offering to sleep with him," Oriya snarled. 

    Reiku paused. "Okay. Fine. I made a mistake. Are you satisfied?" 

    "Yes," Oriya said. And he was. He turned and walked out. Himiko was in the kitchen, stirring something. Two members of the kitchen staff had arrived. Everyone had eaten dinner. The Ko Kaku Rou would be opening for business in twenty-five minutes. He hoped off-handedly that Reiku took a shower first. "Do you need any help, Himiko?" 

    "I'm fine, thank you," she said. "But Muraki was here a few seconds ago, asking for you. He said his room is locked and he'd like to get into it." 

    Oriya nodded and headed upstairs. It would be a quiet night, given that it was Tuesday. The restaurant would be empty by nine o'clock. Businessmen and politicians would head home to their wives and children, all their appetites fulfilled. 

    He kept Muraki's room locked when he wasn't there, because quite frankly he didn't know everything that Muraki kept there, and he didn't want the more enterprising geisha to decide to snoop around to find it. Reiku was bad enough, but Yoshie was nosy, and Suzumi would do a lot to prove she was right if someone doubted her word. 

    Oriya stood outside the door, fishing for the keys in the pocket of his kimono. Most kimonos didn't have pockets, but Oriya had a tendency to lose things, so he'd sewn them in himself. He felt Muraki standing behind him, though he hadn't heard him walk up, and was not startled when Muraki reached into his pocket for the keys. Muraki took care to brush his hand against some of Oriya's more sensitive areas before removing his hand. Oriya bit his lip. "You're such a jerk," he said. 

    "Mm hmm." Muraki pushed at the top of his kimono, sliding it off his shoulders slightly. "That was to get you back for what you did this morning." He pressed his lips against Oriya's skin lightly. Oriya felt his breath quicken. 

    "This . . . is not the time or place," he said. "We'll be opening in twenty minutes, and we're out in the hallway where anyone can see us, and . . ." He stopped talking because it was either that or let out the whimper he felt building. Muraki's hands were in his pockets again. 

    "I missed you, Oriya," Muraki said, sliding the kimono down further. His arms wrapped around Oriya's waist, holding him tightly. Oriya gave up on dignity and turned around, letting Muraki kiss him. He had to admit he liked the way Muraki looked in a yukata. 

    There was a strangled noise. Oriya pulled away quickly to see Suzumi staring at them. He felt a sudden migraine coming on. 

    "You lied!" she accused, glaring at him. "You said that you weren't lovers anymore!" 

    "I had a change of heart," Muraki said smoothly, unlocking his bedroom door. "Near death experiences can do that, you know." He pushed the door open and pushed Oriya inside without another word. "Have a nice evening," he said to Suzumi politely, then pulled the door shut. 

    "Not now," Oriya said flatly. "I have a business to run." 

    "The others can handle it." Muraki slowly advanced on him. 

    Oriya held his ground. "Kentarou isn't here tonight. He takes Tuesdays and Wednesdays off. I need to be downstairs when the customers start arriving, to see them to tables, and that's the end of the story." 

    "Mm hmm." Muraki got hold of his wrist too quickly for Oriya to counter it, and tugged him over quickly. He put his arm around Oriya's waist so he could have a firm hold and pulled him into a dizzying kiss. 

    Oriya closed his eyes. He was not afraid that Muraki would force him. He had to remember that he was not afraid that Muraki would force him. The simple fact, which he would never admit to anyone, was that he liked the way Muraki dominated him. He liked having control taken away from him. 

    Just not twenty minutes before his restaurant opened. 

    Still, he kissed back. He had missed Muraki, and after the week of being uncertain whether he was going to live or die, Oriya found himself severely lacking in willpower. 

    After a minute, he untangled himself from Muraki's grasp and backed away a step. "That was . . . nice," he said, his tone of voice a warning. "And now I'm going to go take care of business. And if you're very lucky, maybe tonight I'll give you a treat for being so patient." 

    Muraki laughed. "Go, run your restaurant." 

    Oriya's eyes narrowed. "I don't need your permission. I do what I please. This is my house and you stay here under my sufferance. You might do well to remember that." 

    "Would you kick me out?" Muraki asked curiously. 

    "I have before," Oriya reminded him. 

    Muraki fell silent, thinking of that memorable occasion when he had gotten just a bit too pushy for Oriya's taste. He'd found himself half-naked in the street, during a rainstorm. Oriya had not spoken to him for six months, had not let him stay at Ko Kaku Rou for another eight months after that, and then had not slept with him for another three. "Fine," he said shortly. "Do as you please." 

    "Thank you," Oriya snarled. "I will." 

    And Muraki knew, beyond a doubt, that Oriya would not be giving him a treat that night. 

~~~~ 

    As Oriya had expected, the restaurant closed early that night. The last patron left, satisfied, at five past nine in the evening. Asawe and Mitsu hadn't had any customers at all. Oriya didn't mind. The geisha got the same pay no matter how many customers they served. The pay wasn't much -- the drawing factor was mainly the room and board he supplied them with. Given that, most of them saved all the money they earned so they would one day be able to leave Ko Kaku Rou. 

    Oriya didn't mind that either, though it was always poignant when one of them did. He was termendously glad that Himiko had chosen to stay on as the cook and housekeeper. He would have missed her otherwise. Some of the others, he had been glad to see them go, as they went off to college and better lives. Others had never gone anywhere. They had just left. 

    He walked into the room where the geisha waited for customers. It was a snapshot of everyday life. Yoshie was making a joke, and Suzumi, Mitsu, and Namika were in the middle of laughing. Chisa had a soft little smile on her face, and she was holding hands with Asawe. 

    Oriya had never inquired too deeply into their relationship; they were roommates and that was all he felt he needed to know. He doubted they had sex; it meant so little to most of the geisha, and they were the two youngest. But he also didn't doubt that they slept in the same bed, because he never saw Himiko bring in more than one set of sheets. He accepted it; it was a good way for them to find comfort and perhaps some self-worth. 

     Itsuko had a dark bruise on one side of her face; Himiko was applying ice to it. Reiku, as usual, sat slightly apart, but he was also laughing at Yoshie's joke. 

    "Yo, Ori-nii," he said, when Oriya walked in. Mitsu and Namika seconded him. Suzumi gave Oriya a sullen glare, but the others greeted him cordially. 

    "Good work tonight," Oriya said. "Asawe, Mitsu, if you two could clean the rooms, since you didn't have any customers. Namika, please help Himiko finish up in the kitchen. Itsuko, are you hurt anywhere else?" 

    She shook her head. 

    "All right. The rest of you can go." 

    They departed for their rooms. Oriya went back to the cash register. He counted up all the money and deposited it in the safe as usual. He made a trip to the bank every Monday and Thursday mornings. Namika was surprisingly good with numbers, and helped him with the accounting. 

    "We're done," Mitsu said cheerfully, carrying a pail of water through so she could throw it down the drain. Oriya smiled at her. He liked Mitsu; she was unfailingly cheerful, despite her station in life. "Asawe went upstairs already. Do you need anything else?" 

    "No, thank you, Mitsu," he said. "I'll see you in the morning." 

    Mitsu nodded and smiled, heading up to the room she shared with Suzumi. 

    Oriya finished with the money and went up the stairs. His room was dark and empty, and the door to Muraki's room was closed. 

~~~~ 

    Muraki knew better than to push his luck. One of the things he loved about Oriya so dearly was that there was a line he could not cross, and Oriya could enforce his own rules. It was a refreshing change from most people he knew. Most people didn't dare kick him in the head or toss him out in the rain. 

    So Muraki did not venture into Oriya's room that night, and he was not surprised when Oriya did not approach him. He amused himself in other ways. When he woke up the next morning, Himiko had breakfast ready, and Oriya wasn't there. 

    "In town on business," Himiko told him. "I think he wanted to do the shopping, because he brought Mitsu and Reiku with him, to help him carry things. There's probably other things while he's there." 

    Muraki found it very interesting that Oriya had chosen to remove Reiku from the house while he was absent. He wondered if the grocery shopping was just a convenient excuse. However, there was really no way to ask. He thanked her and went out to the backyard. 

    Spring was just arriving, and he carefully stepped around the few piles of snow. He was wearing one of his suits, although without the jacket, and a heavy robe he had liberated from Oriya's closet. 

    "Isn't it pretty?" a timid voice asked. 

    Muraki turned slightly to see Asawe and Chisa regarding him seriously. They looked slightly similar, both with very Japanese features, short dark hair, and shy expressions. They were even dressed similarly, in regular kimonos. Asawe's was pale blue, and Chisa's was lavender. They were holding hands. Very pretty. 

    Very doll like. 

    "Of course," he replied. "I always love to come here in the spring." He smiled disarmingly at them. "You don't need to look so nervous," he said. "I don't bite." 

    Chisa tried to smile. Asawe didn't. She just looked at him seriously. "The others don't like you," she said simply. "The older ones. There are rumors about you that . . . that make us frightened." 

    "Then why are you talking to me?" Muraki asked curiously. In truth, he liked both Chisa and Asawe. They were so similar, yet so different. They were both quiet and timid to a fault. Yet Chisa was usually seen with a smile on her face and a few light words to lift everyone else's spirits. He found it quite remarkable, given what she'd lived through. Asawe, on the other hand, was perpetually serious and thoughtful. 

    "Because Oriya-san wouldn't let you hurt us," Chisa stated with certainty. 

    Muraki smiled. "Oriya isn't here." 

    Asawe just continued giving him the serious look. "But we don't think you would hurt us anyway, because you love Oriya-san. Don't you?" 

    Muraki turned away and said nothing. 

    "I'm sorry," Asawe said in a small voice. "I didn't mean to presume." 

    "That's the other rumor," Chisa said, with a small smile. "Yoshie started that one. She said that when she looked at the two of you together, she could tell. Suzumi thought she was lying, but then Suzumi saw you two kissing in the hall last night . . ." 

    "Why are you saying this to me?" Muraki asked curiously. 

    Chisa and Asawe glanced at each other. "Because we love Oriya-san very much," Chisa finally said. "He saved us both. He takes care of us. I suppose he's the closest thing to a father that either of us have ever had . . . and we want him to be happy." 

    Muraki laughed and shook his head. "Well, I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but Oriya will never be happy with me. As soon as he and I have talked, I'll be heading off again." 

    Asawe looked out into the distance. "That," she said with certainty, "will make Oriya-san very unhappy." Chisa nodded, backing her up on this. "He's always unhappy right after you leave. He stays in your room and mopes all the time. Or at least that's what Mitsu says. We haven't been here long enough to notice. But Mitsu doesn't lie, not the way Yoshie does." 

    "Does he, now," Muraki said, amused by this. 

    They both nodded in unison. 

    "Like last time," Chisa said in a hushed voice, as if someone else might be listening, "just before you came back injured, he stayed up there all night, not saying anything to anyone. He wouldn't even come down to help the restaurant. Himiko-san tried to ask him about it, but all he would say was that you weren't coming back anymore." 

    "But then you did come back," Asawe added. 

    "Yes," Muraki said. "Then I came back." Because he had had nowhere else to go. And for some inexplicable reason, he wasn't dead. 

    "He was very worried that you might die," Chisa said quietly. "He stayed up there and held your hand and refused to leave your side for anything. Himiko-san had to drag him down to dinner after two days." 

    Muraki lit a cigarette. He had heard enough. He didn't want to listen to any more stories about how much Oriya cared for him, or much worried he was. "I assure you both that Oriya will be far better off without me in his life." 

    "You always say that," a sharper voice intervened. "And then you always come back." 

    Muraki turned, then smiled slightly. "Itsuko-chan. A pleasure as always." 

    "Cut the crap," she said. "You don't like me and I despise you. I also can't count how many times that Yoshie and I have seen you do that to Oriya. You say you'll leave him alone, and then you'll come back. And he always lets you. I'm starting to wonder why he hasn't disemboweled you. Oh, never mind," she added with a wicked smile. "Someone beat him to it." 

    Muraki rolled his eyes. Itsuko had been working at the Ko Kaku Rou for over five years, and they had hated each other since day one. Muraki couldn't count the number of times he'd come close to killing her. Only his promises to Oriya held him back. The damnable thing was, she knew that he wouldn't kill her, and exploited the advantage. She was utterly insufferable. 

    He had one weapon, though. Using the affectionate nickname drove her absolutely crazy. "Now, now, Itsuko-chan," he said, in as condescending a tone as he could muster, "I was trying to talk to Chisa-chan and Asawe-chan. If you have something useful to say, please feel free to chime in. Otherwise, leave us alone." 

    "Yeah," she said. She plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and took a long drag, then dropped it and crushed it out with her heel. It hadn't even been half-smoked. "Oriya's home. And he wants to see you." 

~~~~ 


	4. Chapter Three

_It's not dead! ::cheers:: _

Warnings for lime, arguments, and overuse of OCs. ^^ 

Chapter Three 

    Muraki walked into the kitchen to see Oriya's lower half. The rest of him was buried in the pantry. Muraki admired that lower half, waiting patiently for Oriya's attention. The others had gone elsewhere; he suspected that Oriya had requested privacy. "I'm almost done putting the groceries away," Oriya said, pulling his head and shoulders out of the pantry. "You can wait." 

    Muraki nodded complacently. He didn't bother to ask how Oriya had known he was there. It was just something that Oriya could do. 

    He waited while Oriya finished with the groceries. "You wanted to see me?" he finally asked. 

    Oriya nodded. "Upstairs," he said. 

    Muraki raised an eyebrow, but followed him up to his bedroom. The geisha obeyed Oriya when he requested time alone, so if he wanted this behind closed doors, it really had to be important. Oriya closed the door behind them and turned to give him a considering look. "I want to know your intentions," he said abruptly. 

    There was a pause. Muraki couldn't help but smile. 

    "Don't smirk at me, you condescending bastard," Oriya said. "I know damn well you plan on leaving again. Don't think I don't know you well enough for that." 

    Muraki shrugged. "Then you already know my intentions." 

    Oriya stared out the window for a long minute. His hair was down and unbound, trailing over his shoulders. "You don't have to go," he said quietly, looking outside intently. He did not turn around even when Muraki stepped toward him, putting his arms around Oriya's waist. "You could stay here. I know that you're happier when you're here." 

    "I am," Muraki agreed. "But are you?" 

    Oriya studied the horizon. "I don't know," he said. 

    "Not exactly a stunning endorsement," Muraki said mildly, pressing his chest against Oriya's back. He was just the right height for his lips to press against Oriya's ear as he spoke, his warm breath soft against it. Oriya shivered. 

    "You don't have anywhere else to go, anyway," Oriya replied. 

    "I suppose not," Muraki said, leaning against him, letting Oriya take some of his weight. He was suddenly unbearably tired. Oriya was right. He had nowhere to go. There was really no point to leaving. There was no more work for him to do. No point to anything, not really. 

    "Where were you last night?" Oriya asked, his voice quiet. 

    Muraki tensed a little. He hadn't realized that Oriya knew he had not been in his room. "I went out," he said. After Oriya had angered him, he had needed to get rid of some of that tension. The geisha were hands off, but there were plenty of other people in the neighborhood. 

    "I figured," Oriya said. He moved a few inches away from Muraki, leaning on the windowsill. "It was in the newspaper." 

    Muraki shrugged. 

    "I hope you don't plan on turning that sort of incident into a regular thing," Oriya said, turning around. His elbows were still on the sill, some of his hair trailing out the window. He was giving Muraki a very pointed look. 

    Muraki smiled. "That's why I was going to leave." 

    Oriya snorted. "Off somewhere so you could murder people in peace? Off to kick up a fuss so the Shinigami will have to come for you? So Tsuzuki will finish what he started when he put that knife in your stomach? I know you too well, Muraki. You aren't going anywhere." 

    Muraki took a few steps forward, pressing his body against Oriya's, smirking as Oriya closed his eyes in enjoyment. "Are you sure you aren't just saying this because you don't want me to leave?" he asked. 

    Oriya opened his eyes and gave Muraki a steady look. "When I thought I would never see you again, that made me unhappy," he said softly. "And if you walk out these doors again, I know that's what it would be. So yes, I am saying this because I don't want you to leave. But I have no idea whether or not you respect my opinion enough." 

    "Last night you nearly kicked me out," Muraki reminded him. 

    Oriya snorted. "Because you wouldn't behave." 

    Muraki rolled his eyes. "You're very contrary, you know that? You don't want me to leave, but you threaten to throw me out when I won't behave. Make up your mind." 

    "I have," Oriya said. 

    Muraki sighed, closing his eyes and leaning against Oriya again. "You never open yourself to me completely," he said, and Oriya thought he heard real regret in his tone. "You never really let me in, not anymore. You don't trust me." 

    "Should I?" Oriya asked. 

    "No." 

    Silence. 

    "Sometimes I dream about killing you," Muraki said, murmuring the words directly into Oriya's ear. "About how easy it would be. About how beautiful it would be. But I know I'll never do it. Isn't that strange? I can kill without a second's remorse, but you . . . I would never kill you, yet I don't know why." 

    "I do," Oriya replied. 

    "Are you going to say it's true love?" Muraki asked. His tone was amused, but there was a strained note beneath it. Oriya wondered if he wanted the answer to be yes. 

    "No," he said. "But you know that I'm the only person you can depend on. The only person who has always been there for you, that you've always been able to count on. The only person who knows you for who you really are, but hasn't abandoned you. That's why you don't want to kill me. You don't want to lose that." 

    Muraki inclined his head in a slight nod, accepting that answer. "You said you had made up your mind." 

    "Yes." Oriya pulled away and walked across the room. "I want you to stay. And I want you to stay for a year. And during that time, I don't want you to hurt anyone. No killing, no maiming, no raping, no sexual assault, no disfiguring, no experimentation, no emotional abuse, and no killing." 

    "You said 'no killing' twice," Muraki said. His voice was amused. He was not. 

    "I figured it warranted a second mention." 

    Muraki tried to think of anything that Oriya had left out. He couldn't. "Why?" he asked. 

    "Because I think it would do you some good to live without hurting other people for a while. I think you don't really know what it's like. I also don't want the police down on my head because you're staying here." 

    Muraki's lips twitched in a smile. "And if I don't feel like it?" 

    Oriya shrugged. "Fine. I should have known better than to think you would try. I don't know why I thought you could do it, or why I thought you would." 

    That annoyed Muraki, and it was worse because he knew the comment was directly intended as reverse psychology, and it worked anyway. "You think I'm not up to the challenge?" he asked. Oriya just shrugged. "All right," Muraki said. "What do I get if I win?" 

    "You can have me." Oriya went back to staring at the window. "What was it you said a few minutes ago? That I never let myself open to you anymore, or let you in. Do this for me, and you can have that. You can have me. Mind, body, and soul, to do with as you like. To kiss or to kill." His voice held a slightly wistful note. "It doesn't make much of a difference now anyway. My body and soul are already yours. It's only my logical side that fights it." 

    "And if I fail?" Muraki asked. 

    "Nothing." Oriya shrugged. "We go on as usual." 

    Muraki smiled a little, although the thought of losing his chance to his own inadequacies was inexplicably painful. "And what if I refuse completely?" he asked, wanting to get all his options settled. 

    "Then I'll either run you through where you stand right now," Oriya said, with a charming smile, "or I'll kick you out and we'll never see each other again." 

    Muraki laughed, although he knew that Oriya wasn't joking. "All right," he said. "I accept your terms. What about sex?" 

    "What about it?" Oriya asked dryly. 

    Muraki smiled. "There is the small matter of Reiku . . ." 

    "He changed his mind. He's no longer up for grabs. Or perhaps I should say that I changed his mind for him. If you can find willing partners, be my guest. But no rape. That was part of the agreement." 

    "I wasn't likely to forget," Muraki said with a smile. He took a few steps forward, backing Oriya against a wall. "So be sure that you don't resist me." 

    Oriya raised an eyebrow. "You never do what I expect, you know that?" 

    "What did you expect that I was going to do?" Muraki asked curiously, hooking his fingers in the V of Oriya's kimono and pulling him closer. 

    "I don't know," Oriya said. "But I thought I had pissed you off, and so I wasn't really expecting preludes to sex. What would you do if I said I had work to do before we opened tonight?" 

    "I wouldn't believe you." Muraki pressed Oriya to the wall, leaning close and speaking right into his ear. "It's Wednesday. You cleaned last night, the shopping is done . . . you don't have anything to do until five thirty, an hour before the restaurant opens." 

    "You do know me too well," Oriya said, amused. 

    "You are completely not busy right now," Muraki said, pressing his lips against Oriya's neck and smiling as Oriya shivered. "Unless you count how busy you are with me." He slowly undid Oriya's obi and let it fall to the ground. Oriya shivered again as Muraki parted the kimono. 

    "I remember when we were in college and you didn't wear anything underneath these," Muraki murmured, his finger tracing the waistband of Oriya's boxers. "I always thought it was a shame you decided not to anymore . . ." 

    "Shut up," Oriya said, tilting his head back. It was getting harder to catch his breath as Muraki's fingers traced over his skin. 

    Muraki smiled. "Did you miss me, Ori-chan?" 

    "I missed you," Oriya said, and allowed Muraki to steer him over to the futon and push him down onto it. "But you were being a jerk when you were here . . . fawning over your little Shinigami and ignoring me. I still ought to kick your ass for that." 

    "Are you going to?" Muraki asked, running his hand lazily over Oriya's stomach, then over the waist of his boxers. "Because I feel like I should know," he added, smirking as Oriya bit his lip to keep from making any noise. He leaned down for a kiss, his teeth tugging at Oriya's lower lip. Oriya moaned dizzily into Muraki's mouth. 

    "You should let yourself go more," Muraki said, leaning down to lick at Oriya's chest in long, slow strokes. "Who's going to care if you make noise? The others won't care. They all know we're sleeping together anyway. I think they might be happy to hear you having a little fun." 

    Oriya didn't reply. Instead, he bit down on his hand to keep from crying out. 

    Muraki laughed. He took hold of Oriya's wrist and raised his hand to his lips. "You could teach lessons in the art of repression," he said, drawing Oriya's finger into his mouth. Oriya tilted his head back and let out a slight, breathy sigh as Muraki gave the treatment to each of his fingers in turn. 

    "Maybe I just don't want the others to hear," Oriya said. "Maybe we both know damn well that Itsuko, Yoshie, and Reiku will all laugh at me once I leave this room. Even if they're glad I'm happy, they'll still laugh at me." 

    "Maybe I don't care," Muraki said, tugging at the boxers. Oriya lifted his hips slightly, and they slid off easily. Muraki tossed them across the room. "I really did miss you, you know," he said, moving his lips down Oriya's stomach. 

    "Sure, sure," Oriya mumbled, trying not to bite his lips. Muraki had his hands pinned down very firmly at his sides to keep him from biting his knuckles again. It didn't help that Muraki was very slowly making his way lower. 

    "Scream for me, Oriya," Muraki whispered, keeping his hands pinned as he kissed his way lower. 

    Oriya clenched his jaw. "You . . . bastard . . ." he managed. 

    "You know I love the sound of your voice," Muraki murmured, licking his way up Oriya's inner thigh. Oriya bit his lip, but was unable to hold back a small cry. Muraki chuckled, hovering just a few inches away from Oriya. "Aren't you going to say please?" he asked. 

    "You -- " Oriya struggled to get his hands free, but Muraki had him too well pinned. 

    "Come on, Oriya . . ." Muraki leaned down just close enough for Oriya to feel his lips. "Beg for me . . ." 

    "God, you fucking bastard," Oriya said, his head tilting back. "I hate you and I want you so bad I can't stand it . . . I missed you so much . . ." 

    "Louder," Muraki said, and got down to business. 

    Oriya tilted his head back and was unable to hold back a moaning cry. "Please, Kazutaka . . . please . . ." 

    Muraki had never questioned why Oriya only used his first name during sex. It was odd, but it never seemed worth asking about. There was too good a chance that Oriya would get annoyed at him for asking, or say that he should know anyway. Now that Oriya seemed done resisting, he let go of his wrists, allowing Oriya to twine his hands in Muraki's hair. 

    Given that he had been teasing Oriya immensely, and was not showing any restraint, it did not take long to finish. Oriya closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath, feeling very nicely limp. 

    Muraki traced one hand up his chest. "I hope you recover quickly," he murmured into Oriya's ear. "Because I'm not finished yet." 

    Oriya cracked one eye open. "Well, no, I didn't figure," he mumbled. "You never even got your pants off. And God forbid you give pleasure without taking any." 

    Muraki gave him an affronted look. Then he stood up and slowly began to undress. Oriya watched wordlessly. "What are you going to do?" he asked the silence, wondering if Muraki would answer. Muraki lifted an eyebrow. "Not now, you prick," Oriya snapped irritably. "I just meant . . . in general. You accepted my terms. Does that mean you'll stay here?" 

    "I wouldn't have accepted them if I wasn't going to," Muraki said, sliding his belt out of his pants. "Would it make you feel better if I said it?" 

    "Maybe," Oriya admitted. 

    Muraki dropped his pants and underwear to the floor and stepped out of them, then lay down next to Oriya. One hand ran pensively through Oriya's hair. "Yes," he said. "I'm going to stay here. Unless you kick me out. It's not like I have anything better to do." 

    Oriya bristled at that remark. "So you're just doing it for lack of options," he said bitterly. "I should have known as much. You always -- " 

    His words were cut off as Muraki kissed him. Not a violent kiss or a forceful kiss. A gentle, somehow knowing kiss. 

    Oriya closed his eyes and twined his arms around Muraki's shoulders, and wondered why he had to love the man so damn much. 

~~~~ 

    "What is Tsuzuki to you?" Oriya asked the silence. 

    Muraki's hands stilled momentarily in what he was doing. After a very enthusiastic afternoon, he had declared that the early evening was going to be relaxation time. Since Oriya didn't have anything to do until the restaurant opened at six thirty, he was perfectly all right with this concept. 

    Somehow, the idea had led to a backrub, which Oriya also had no problem with. He had the opinion that Muraki gave one of the best massages in the world. Muraki said it came of being a doctor, of knowing the individual muscles. Oriya said it was because he used scented oils and was the sexiest bastard in Japan. 

    "What do you mean?" Muraki asked; after his moment's hesitation, his hands going back to their near liquid movement over the tension in Oriya's back. 

    "Don't give me that," Oriya said, although he was too relaxed to work up anger. "I saw the way you looked at him. He meant something to you, and I'd like to know whether or not it's worth being jealous over." 

    Muraki laughed softly. "Figures it would be something like that. Nothing ever changed between us in the year and a half I knew him." 

    "True," Oriya said. "But given that I don't really know what I am to you, I can't really use that as a unit of comparison, now can I." 

    "I suppose not," Muraki said with a chuckle. 

    "Did you love him?" Oriya asked quietly. 

    "I don't really know," Muraki said thoughtfully. "I don't really know what that would be like, to be in love with somebody. But I don't think so, in the end. He was beautiful, he was . . . desirable . . . but he was a means to an end. I was going to kill him in order to resurrect Saki, so I don't think I could have loved him." 

    Oriya nodded. This logic made good sense to him, and he was relieved. He didn't know what he would have said or done if Muraki had said yes, but he knew that he would have been upset. 

    "Besides, no reason to be jealous," Muraki said. "I was going to kill him, but we've already established that I wouldn't kill you. That must mean something, in the end." 

    "Good," Oriya said, feeling sleepy. It had been a long day. 

    "Good?" Muraki asked, amused. "That's all you've got to say to that? Good?" 

    "Good," Oriya agreed. "What's wrong with just saying that?" 

    "I find it entertaining," Muraki said, devoting his attention to a particularly tense muscle in Oriya's lower back. Oriya bit his lip as Muraki pressed down on it. "After all, just because I didn't love him doesn't mean that by default, I love you." 

    The words were casually dropped into the atmosphere. Up until then, bringing up the subject of what lay between them has been an unspoken prohibition. They both knew all the facts, and it wasn't worth discussing, not even in the darkest hours of the night. 

    Oriya shrugged out from underneath Muraki's touch and stood, reaching for his kimono. 

    "Don't go," Muraki said, realizing his mistake too late. 

    "Why shouldn't I?" Oriya asked viciously, pulling the kimono on and looking around for his obi. He hadn't the faintest memory of where in the room he'd been when Muraki had pulled it off. "It's nearly six. I have work to do. Why should I stay up here and be coddled and condescended to?" 

    Muraki picked the obi up off the floor and twined it between his hands. "I didn't mean to say that," he said. 

    "Oh, that's just fine," Oriya said flatly, fuming. "Unfortunately for you, you said it, and it's not exactly something I'm going to forget. Do what you like with the evening. I'm going to go do my job." 

    "I have your obi," Muraki pointed out, not exactly in a teasing tone, but in the manner of one who is stating a fact and holds the upper hand. 

    "I would rather," Oriya snarled, "walk through these halls naked than stay in this room with you for five more seconds." He turned on his heel, holding his kimono wrapped around him, and slammed his way out of the room. He was shaking, bordering on a fine line between being angry and being upset. 

    He met Himiko in the hallway. If she noticed his state of partial dress, she didn't mention it. "Your dinner is ready," she said. "And so is Muraki-san's." 

    "That bastard can starve to death for all I care," Oriya snapped. He saw her raised eyebrow and felt bad for losing his temper with her. God only knew that it wasn't her fault. "I'll be down as soon as I get another obi." 

    Himiko simply nodded and turned away. 

    When Oriya got downstairs, he passed the room where the geisha were waiting. There was a smattering of giggles from inside, and he thought back to that afternoon with an inward groan. They couldn't have helped but heard. Still, duties called. He quickly glanced into the room and noted that they were all present and accounted for except Reiku. "Where's Reiku?" he asked abruptly. 

    Yoshie and Suzumi smothered their giggles quickly, realizing that he was in the room. Mitsu gave him a sunny grin, and Namika bit her lip to keep from smiling, looking away. Chisa and Asawe gave him identical thoughtful looks. As for Itsuko, she looked like she was in a foul mood. Knowing her opinion of Muraki, this didn't surprise Oriya. 

    "He's showering," Mitsu answered quickly, when it became clear that no one else was going to. "He should be down in a few minutes." 

    "Good." Oriya turned to go. 

    "Ne, Oriya," Itsuko said from her corner, "how long will Muraki-san be staying?" 

    "I don't know," he said, hoping he could glare down her disapproving look. "But possibly quite a while. He's taking an extended vacation of sorts." 

    "He's actually staying?" she asked incredulously. 

    Oriya tried to keep himself from going tense. "Itsuko, if you have something to say about Muraki or myself, I suggest you do it in private. Now is neither the time nor the place." Something about the strained tone of voice he used made the smiles disappear from the geisha's faces. 

    "All right," Itsuko said, subdued. "Gomen ne." 

    Oriya suddenly felt incredibly tired. "It's okay. I . . . I have work to do." 

    He turned and left the room. The other geisha were left in silence, contemplating what had just happened. Reiku stepped in mere seconds after Oriya had left, wearing loose cotton pants and a Chinese style shirt. It was as close to geisha clothes as he could get. "What's up?" he asked, toweling his hair dry. "Everyone looks so somber." 

    He got a variety of looks. Out of all of them, Itsuko was the only one who really cared for him, treating him as a wayward younger brother of sorts. Mitsu liked him, but then again, Mitsu liked everyone. The others merely tolerated him, with the sole exception of Suzumi, who violently disliked him. 

    It was not precisely his personality that made them wary of him; it was simply his gender. Most of them had been abused by men for years and raped more than once. A natural distrust of men ran strongly in them, with the exception of Oriya, whom they all viewed as a rescuer and protector. 

    "Looks like Muraki's going to be staying for a while," Mitsu said quietly, in a tone of voice unlike her usual cheer. She, Yoshie, and Itsuko had been there the longest. They had watched the cycle of Muraki and Oriya many, many times, and all of them knew that it only ended in unhappiness. 

    "Oh," Reiku said, and sat down. "That's bad? He's kinda funny." 

    "I agree," Asawe said suddenly, gaining several startled looks. "I'd like to be filled in. If this . . . if this is something that could hurt Oriya-san, I want to know about it." Her voice faltered slightly as Itsuko turned the glare on her, but strengthened when Chisa reached out and took her hand. "Just because we haven't been here as long doesn't mean that we don't care about him." 

    "I'd like to know, too," Namika said. "And the truth, not these rumors that Yo-chan has been spreading." As Yoshie's roommate, she was forced to listen to said rumors quite a bit. 

    "Muraki," Itsuko said concisely, "is a cold-blooded bastard." 

    Mitsu sighed as everyone gave Itsuko a look for being singularly unhelpful. "We don't really know what's between them," she said. "It's just . . . Oriya-san loves him. I mean, we all know that. But I don't really think that Muraki-san loves him back. He does this sometimes . . . he shows up, stays for a while, lets Oriya-san think that everything's going to be okay. But then he always takes off again. I asked Oriya-san where he had gone once, when I was new here, and he said that Muraki-san was off chasing shadows. I never had the guts to ask him what he meant by that." 

    "So what do you think?" Chisa asked from her corner of the room. "Would it be better for Muraki-san to go now? Or later?" 

    "I don't know," Mitsu said. "I just know that whatever happens, Oriya-san is going to be hurt. Until he manages to cut Muraki-san out of his life completely, he's always going to be hurt by him." 

    "Nice girls don't gossip," Himiko said sharply from the doorway, and everyone jumped. 

    Suzumi's eyes lit up, and she totally ignored the injunction. "Himiko-san, you were there, weren't you? You've been here ever since Oriya-san was a little baby. You have to know what's really between him and Muraki-san, don't you?" 

    "That," Himiko said firmly, "is not any of your business. Nor is it really mine." 

    "Aww, Himiko-samaaaaa," Yoshie whined, "we just wanna help Oriya-san . . ." 

    Himiko gave Yoshie a look. She shut up. 

    "The first customer is here," Himiko said. "It's Gaseka-san." 

    "All right." Mitsu gracefully rose to her feet. Gaseka was a regular who never failed to ask for her, and in truth, she rather liked him. He was polite and courteous. "Jaa ne," she said, waving to the others as she left the room. 

    Himiko gave them all one last glare and left the room. 

    "So what do you think we should do?" Asawe asked. 

    "Wait," Itsuko said, "and watch." 

    

~~~~~ 


	5. Chapter Four

_Yes! I did it! I wrote more of this fic!! _

And I haven't the faintest idea whether or not my Muraki is in character or not! And I don't care! XD 

Chapter Four 

    It was late that night, while Oriya sat contemplatively in the kitchen, considering how much he hated his life and what steps he might take to remedy this, when Himiko walked in and abruptly dropped a mug of tea in front of him. "Drink that," she said sharply. "You look chilled." 

    Oriya sighed and accepted the cup. "You don't have to worry about me," he said absently. "I'm all right." 

    Himiko arched one greying eyebrow at him, then pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. "Might I remind you," she said, her voice tart, "that I have known you since you were in diapers, and you happen to be a very bad liar?" 

    "Himiko, I'm all right," Oriya said quietly. "I know you're worried about me, but nothing's more wrong than it's ever been." 

    "Did it occur to you that maybe that's why I'm worried?" Himiko asked gently. "You've known Muraki for how many years now, and you still haven't figured out what he's doing to you?" 

    "I know what he's doing to me," Oriya said, and it was a growing effort to keep his voice from rising. "All right? He uses me, he hurts me, he takes me for all I'm worth. Do you honestly think I'm that blind?" 

    "Do you honestly think that I am?" Himiko retorted. "Oriya, since I'm the closest to a mother that you have, I feel compelled to tell you something that you don't seem to have realized, and that's that Muraki is evil. And he doesn't love you. He doesn't care a shred about you, and if you had let me, I would have told him to never come back years ago." 

    "Evil." Oriya laughed softly. 

    "Don't think we don't know who and what he is, Oriya," Himiko said. "You've got a bright bunch of girls here under your wing. And please don't think that I never connected his visits with the . . . commotion that tends to happen." 

    Oriya rubbed his thin hands over his face. "How can we judge, Himiko? Yes, I know what Muraki does is wrong. I know that by all the laws of society, he should be in jail or executed by now. But – " 

    "You love him?" 

    "No," Oriya said. "Love doesn't excuse what he does. What I was going to say is that I'm not sure he truly realizes that it's wrong. Himiko, you know what happened to his parents. You know – " 

    "If love doesn't excuse it, neither does that," Himiko said sharply. 

    Oriya closed his eyes. "Does it matter?" he finally asked. "Maybe he is evil. I don't pretend to pass judgment on him. But I know him, and I still love him. I don't know how or why, but I do. I've tried to stop, Himiko, and I can't. I can't stop loving him." 

    "And he knows it," Himiko said. "He uses that against you." 

    Oriya shrugged. "Yeah, I guess," he said. "But you're wrong about one thing, Himiko. He does care about me. I know it's hard to see and probably harder to believe, but he does." 

    "And what's your proof of that?" Himiko asked, then added bitterly, "is it because he hasn't raped or killed you yet?" 

    "No," Oriya said quietly. "It's because he keeps coming back." 

    Himiko said nothing. 

    "He has no reason to come here," Oriya said. "All right, yes, free room and board. But he doesn't care about money; he has more than enough. Free sex, sure, but he could get that any time he likes. He's handsome enough, and doesn't care if his partners are willing, so it's not like it's trouble for him." 

    "Hardly a point in his favor," Himiko snapped viciously. 

    Oriya didn't rise to her tone of voice. "He comes here, Himiko, because there's something here that he wants, that he needs. And that's me. That's my acceptance of who he is and what he does. It's the fact that he can relax in my presence and not worry. It's because he knows there are certain lines he can't cross with me." 

    Himiko stood up and turned to walk away. "How long before you let him cross those lines, Oriya?" she asked quietly. "How long before the abuse turns from emotional to physical? I've seen it happen before, with so many girls. I don't want it to happen to you." 

    "Well, how about this," Oriya said dryly, lighting a cigarette. "If you see me with any bruises, you can kick his ass from here to China. But until then, remember that . . ." Oriya's voice faded momentarily before coming back strong. "Remember that he's my lover, and I won't have anyone speaking ill of him in my house." 

    Himiko bowed her head. "Hai, Oriya-san," she said softly. 

    Oriya suddenly felt very tired. "I'm sorry, Himiko. I – " 

    But she had already left the room. 

    He left the untouched mug of tea on the table and quietly made his way up to his room. It was past midnight, and all the geisha were asleep, except for (Oriya assumed) Reiku, who usually stayed up far past everyone else. Oriya found himself unable to care. 

    He opened the door to his room. It was dark, silent, and empty. 

    He closed the door, and went down the hall to Muraki's room. He pushed the door open without knocking and went inside. Muraki was sitting in bed in his usual shirt and pants; his tie had been lost somewhere. Oriya wasn't sure why he had continued to dress in a suit when he wasn't working, but it was something Muraki had always done. 

    Muraki raised an eyebrow at him. Oriya knew that the other man was surprised to see him. After the argument they'd had that afternoon, Muraki probably hadn't expected to see him for days; at least, not like this. 

    Oriya silently closed the door. He took off his kimono and hung it on the peg on the back of the door. Muraki watched him undress, but said nothing. 

    Oriya walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. 

    Oriya put out his cigarette and lay down. 

    "Make me forget," he said quietly, not looking at Muraki. "For just one minute . . . just one second . . . make me forget that you don't love me. Please?" 

    Muraki put down his book and gave Oriya a serious look. "Do you want to do that?" he asked quietly. "Do you want to live that lie? I'm a good actor. If I wanted to, I could. I could have convinced you years ago." 

    Oriya shook his head. "But you never acted around me, did you?" 

    There was a long silence. 

    Muraki reached out and trailed his hand through Oriya's hair. "No," he finally said. "Never to you." 

    Oriya lay in quiet contemplation for a few moments. "When you say that we could live that lie, do you mean it? That we could live as lovers, and pretend that none of the rest of this had happened? Pretend we didn't know better, that I didn't know you don't love me?" 

    "We could," Muraki said, then added, "I would. For this year. If that was what you wanted." 

    Oriya shook his head again. "Maybe you are that good an actor . . . but I'm not. I would know that it wasn't real, and that would be enough." 

    Muraki accepted this in silence. 

    "But for tonight . . . if you don't mind . . ." Oriya's eyes closed; he could not make himself look at Muraki. "I'd like to pretend. I'd like to live that lie. Just for tonight." 

    "Just for tonight," Muraki agreed, and when he kissed Oriya, it was more gentle than Oriya could remember it ever having been. 

~~~~ 

    A few days later, Oriya decided that it was definite: Muraki was getting amusement out of pretending they were any regular married couple. He left Muraki get away with it; after what he had said that night in his room, he wasn't surprised Muraki had decided to do so. Despite the fact that he had turned down Muraki's offer, the idea had clearly intrigued him. 

    Oriya could always tell when something interested Muraki. 

    The afternoon after that surreal midnight conversation, Oriya had come downstairs to find Muraki on the telephone. This didn't surprise him; the only phones in the house were the one in Oriya's office and the main restaurant phone that was used for reservations. Muraki had chosen to make his calls from the office, leaning back in Oriya's rolling desk chair. 

    Oriya listened for the first five minutes before growing bored. It was clear that Muraki was calling the places he usually worked and arranging for an extended vacation, securing his paycheck and whatever other benefits he received from the job. 

    "Don't you usually work freelance?" he asked, as Muraki hung up after the third call. 

    "Usually," Muraki said. "But there are some hospitals and research facilities that are, shall we say, accustomed to my presence." 

    Oriya decided that asking for further details might be a bad idea. 

    He had known that Muraki was always in the middle of any number of projects; that was part of the reason he moved so often and never stayed very long. It made sense that if he was asking Muraki to stay for longer than a week, Muraki would have to arrange someone to take over his work. 

    "Is that all right?" he asked, when Muraki had gotten off the phone. "To just dump everything like that? You could have brought some work here." 

    Muraki raised an eyebrow at him. "Here isn't the problem," he said, his tone neutral. "There are labs in Kyoto and I could certainly arrange for my projects to be transferred here. The terms of my stay here, however, are not compatible." 

    Oriya looked at him. "You're not doing any projects that don't involve hurting people?" 

    "I would give you the details," Muraki said, "but I think you might kick me in the head." 

    There was a long pause. Oriya heaved a sigh, then sat down on the edge of his desk, placing his feet in Muraki's lap. "No," he said firmly. "I want to hear about it. You never tell me enough, and I want to know what you've been doing in all that free time." 

    "You'll be sick," Muraki said. "Or kill me. I'm not sure which." 

    "I want to know," Oriya said stubbornly. 

    "No, you don't." 

    "Look, you already told me about the project where you were mutilating innocent people to try to figure out how to grow organs from scratch, what can be worse than that?" 

    Muraki just gave him an even look. 

    "You're right," Oriya decided, feeling ill. "I don't want to know." For good measure, he lifted his foot and gave Muraki a gentle nudge on the forehead. "Oriya kick," he proclaimed. 

    "Hardly worthy of the title," Muraki said, grabbing him by the ankle. "You usually mean to cause actual brain damage when you do that." 

    "I do not," Oriya said indignantly. "Why would I want to do that? Give you brain damage so you were all drooling and stupid and then I'd have to take care of you and feed you soup." 

    Muraki laughed. "If you were ever so angry that you did kick me that hard, I doubt that you'd be feeding me soup afterwards," he mentioned, his hand sliding up Oriya's calve, underneath the yukata he was wearing. "But all that aside, it's fine if I don't work for a year. I certainly have enough money to tide me over." He raised an eyebrow at Oriya. "Are you going to make me pay rent?" 

    "Don't be an idiot," Oriya snorted. "I resent the implication that I don't have enough money to keep you here." 

    "Well," Muraki said, faking an impressed tone, "we certainly know who the man of this relationship is." 

    Oriya blushed, then growled. "And don't you forget it," he said, easing off the desk so he was straddling Muraki's lap. "This is my house, and therefore, you have to do whatever I say." 

    "Oh, do I, now?" Muraki stood up abruptly, pushing Oriya off and then down onto the desk. Oriya just laughed, reaching up and putting his hand on the back of Muraki's neck, pulling him down for a kiss. "I think we need to have a little refresher course in who's in charge," Muraki said, clearly amused with the situation. 

    "Says the man who's about to shove all my important papers onto the floor," Oriya complained. Muraki didn't reply to that, pinning Oriya's wrists down at either side of his head and kissing him hungrily. This continued in like fashion for several minutes before Oriya pulled away abruptly. "Did I lock the office door?" he wondered suddenly. 

    "Who cares?" Muraki asked idly, nipping at the skin of Oriya's neck. "If you make enough noise, I'm sure no one will disturb us." 

    "In this house?" Oriya gasped out. "You've got to be kidding. Yoshie will try to take pictures to blackmail me and Reiku will want to join in. And Itsuko might try to come in with a kitchen knife to chop off something we both find rather valuable. Lock the damn door." 

    There was a pause. "You do have a point," Muraki admitted. "About Itsuko, at least." He got up and went over to lock the door. Oriya sprawled out over the desk, trying to regain his breath and some measure of sanity. He was thinking about suggesting they move off his desk – desks not being too comfortable, and his paperwork rather in the way – but then Muraki walked back over and kissed him again, and he forgot how to think at all. 

~~~~ 

    As much as it amazed Oriya, the first week of Muraki's visit went without incident. Muraki seemed to honestly want to hold true to their deal, and was certainly amused by playing husband. Oriya knew that it wouldn't keep him occupied longer than a month, but for the month it was going to last, it was quite enjoyable. 

    He caught Muraki giving his geisha some questionable looks once or twice, but a quick boot to the head always solved that problem. Itsuko still seemed to hate him as much as ever, but the others had started to relax in his presence and get used to him being among them. The only exceptions besides Itsuko were Asawe, who continued to watch him with her perpetually thoughtfully gaze, and Reiku. 

    Reiku and Muraki had taken to flirting with each other. 

    Oriya thought he might have to kill them both. 

    On his less charitable days, he was tempted to just let Muraki do what he liked with Reiku – to teach the younger man a lesson if nothing else. He was sure that one evening with Muraki would cease the flirting. However, even if he had, Muraki couldn't do anything until the year was over. So for now, he had to put up with their annoying behavior. 

    Muraki spent most of his time around the house. He would do chores if Oriya asked him to, but Oriya found the lack of activity and movement rather unsettling. He knew that Muraki had been hit hard – harder than he would ever understand – by the destruction of his lab. 

    At times, Oriya felt guilty about keeping him here, tying him down so he couldn't go find work or occupy himself as he used to. Then Oriya remembered that Muraki's idea of keeping himself occupied usually involved the death or torture of others, so his guilt abated. 

    He wondered sometimes what Muraki would have done if he had left. 

    Gone back to his work, maybe? Stem cell research or organ transplants or whatever else caught his attention? His near-obsessive search for the elusive secret to saving peoples' lives that had eventually driven him insane? 

    Gone to do something so horrific that the Shinigami would have finally taken care of him for good? 

    Or just gone? 

    More importantly, since Muraki had stayed, what would he do now? This game of playing husband and doing chores was not going to keep him amused forever. Oriya stared down at the table and wondered how long it would be before Muraki got bored with their deal and went back to his usual ways. 

    And then, would he leave? 

    Oriya suppressed a shiver. He didn't want to think of Muraki leaving again, about that emptiness that always seemed to fill his life when the other man disappeared, as he always did, from their door. 

    Muraki always came back. 

    But what about the one time when he finally didn't? What was Oriya going to do then? 

    "Oriya-san?" 

    Oriya jumped nearly a foot in the air. He had let his mind wander; he had been sitting at the kitchen table with his stone cold tea for nearly an hour. He'd had no idea how late it had gotten. "Ah, Asawe-chan," he said, trying to regain his ruffled dignity. 

    "I didn't mean to startle you," she said in her usual quiet tone, going into the kitchen and reaching for the teapot. "I'm sorry." 

    "No, don't worry about it," he said. "I wasn't really paying attention. I didn't realize how late it was." He watched her as she put water on to boil and started making preparations for tea. "Could you not sleep?" 

    "Hai," she said. "Normally when I can't, Chisa and I talk, but . . . she fell asleep so quickly, I didn't want to wake her. She must be very tired." 

    Oriya nodded slightly. It had been a busy Friday night; all the geisha had served at least three or four customers. After one of Itsuko's had turned surprisingly violent, Asawe had been taken off shift and left to tend her. He wasn't surprised Chisa had been so exhausted – nor was he surprised that Asawe couldn't sleep. 

    "He helped me, you know," Asawe said, turning to look at him seriously. "Muraki-sensei. With Itsuko." 

    Oriya raised an eyebrow. "She allowed that?" 

    Asawe smiled; a thin, tight little smile. "She passed out. I got very worried, but . . . Muraki-sensei helped me. He said she had hit her head too hard." 

    "And she's all right?" 

    Asawe nodded, leaning against the counter as she waited for the water to boil. "Hai. Mitsu and Yoshie helped me get her up to her room. Reiku tried to help, but he wasn't in very good shape either." 

    Oriya felt a headache coming on. Where had he been when Reiku had been injured? It had been a busy night, but all the geisha were supposed to tell him immediately if anything untoward had happened. He needed to know which customers to let back in, for one thing. "He was hurt, too?" 

    Asawe smiled again. "He was helping Himiko in the kitchen and he tripped and fell. It was after everyone else had gone. You were closing up, and he didn't want to bother you." 

    "And he wanted a chance to be 'doctored' by Muraki, I'll bet," Oriya said dryly, and Asawe blushed faintly. "Never mind, never mind. Itsuko's all right, and that's the important thing." 

    "Hai." Asawe turned as the kettle began to whistle. "Would you like some tea, Oriya-san?" 

    "I still have plenty," Oriya said, scowling at his nearly full cup. 

    She nodded slightly and filled her own cup, then sat down at the table across from him. 

    Oriya smiled at her. "What do you want to ask? I can tell that you're burning with curiosity. Even you aren't as subtle as you'd like to think." 

    Asawe smiled back, although it was faint, and studied the table. "It just seems funny, given what an uproar everything was in after Muraki-sensei first arrived," she said. "It's so quiet now, except for tonight. Is he . . ." Asawe faltered slightly, then looked up and met Oriya's gaze. "Is he really going to stay?" 

    "I don't know," Oriya said. "What are the others saying?" 

    "They're all very indecisive," Asawe informed him. "Chisa and Namika think he will. Yoshie is convinced he won't. Mitsu thinks he won't but wishes he would; Suzumi thinks he will but wishes he wouldn't. Reiku won't tell me what he thinks, and Itsuko just wants him dead." 

    Oriya couldn't help but laugh. "And you, Asawe-chan? What do you think?" 

    "I think that you want him to stay," Asawe said, "but you don't think he's going to." 

    Oriya smiled dryly. "Call me a realist." 

    "That's what Mitsu says," Asawe said, with a sad nod. "That she wants to believe that he'll stay, but since he never has, she can't. I think she tries to like him, but doesn't do very well at it." 

    "No one here seems to," Oriya said with a sigh. 

    "That's because everyone here cares so much about you," Asawe said. "And everyone here knows that he hurts you. That makes it hard to like him." 

    Silence. 

    "I like him, though," Asawe said suddenly, and Oriya nearly fell off his chair. 

    "Why?" he asked, at length. 

    "Because . . . hm . . ." Asawe gave this due consideration, blowing on the top of her tea and waiting for it to cool. "Because if Oriya-san loves him, then he must have good points. So I've decided that I like him. He was very gentle with Itsuko, even though I know he doesn't like her. He's a doctor. Doesn't he save lives?" 

    "If only it were that simple," Oriya said. 

    "Why do you love him, Oriya-san?" 

    Silence fell for a few long, unbroken seconds. 

    "Because," Oriya said softly, "when I met him, he was worth loving. And I know that's still there somewhere inside him. I know the man I met in high school is still there somewhere, and . . ." 

    His voice trailed off, into silence. 

    "Do you want to save him?" Asawe asked. 

    "No," Oriya said. "I want him to save himself." 

~~~~ 

_I'll try, very hard, to not have another six-month hiatus. I swear._


End file.
